To Pursue Happiness
by Jojoboo90
Summary: What would have happened if our favourite duo had chosen a different path in life? Would they have found their happily ever after? Two two-shots of AMOUR and TRISTINA (COMPLETE)
1. Amour Chapter 1

**A/N: So… just a little crazy idea I had. Mind you, considering the die-hard Four/Tris fan that I am, this was incredibly painful to write, yet somehow I just couldn't resist it lol. A lot of the dialogues and writings have been borrowed from V. Roth, hence I do not own them.  
Here is the first installment of Tobias' two-shot. I do hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

 **AMOUR**

 **(TOBIAS' POV)**

I walk out of the arena with clenched, bloody fists and a racing heart, and when I'm sure no one is following or can see me anymore, I run. The Dauntless compound is a good place to recover. It's dark and full of secret, quiet places. So I find a hallway near the Pit and sit against the concrete wall.

My head is pounding and my body is sore all over from the fight, but I barely register any of it as I stare at my knuckles that are tacky with blood- Eric's blood. Feeling disgusted by the reminder of what I just did, I try to rub it off but it's been drying too long.

I won the fight. I am now first in my initiate class and that means my place in Dauntless is secure for the time being. I may have chosen Dauntless as a haven, but I'm not just surviving here, I'm excelling. I should feel satisfied, maybe even happy that I finally belong somewhere. But instead I feel afraid that the cost of being Dauntless means harnessing pieces of myself that I would rather have banished away into oblivion.

While I was fighting Eric he began to taunt me as he hit me, reminding me that he knew my name, my father's name. I felt my pain disappear into rage, and I grabbed his arm to hold him in place as I swung at him again, and again, and again. I didn't even see where I was hitting him. I didn't see or feel or hear anything. I was empty, alone. There was just nothing. But then I heard his screams and it brought me back from the nothingness, and when I saw him clutching his face with his hands, bright red blood soaking his chin and his shirt, I became afraid- afraid of what I am, what I might be becoming. And so, without having been dismissed, I excused myself from the training room before anyone could see the terror in my eyes.

Just then I hear quick footsteps running toward me and I see a silhouette turn the corner at the end of the hallway.

"Quit sulking, Four," he says. "Everyone's impressed with you. Embrace it."

I look up to see Amar smiling down at me and I can't help but feel glad that it's him and not somebody else. I like hanging out with him and his Dauntless-born friends, but I prefer when it's just us. He treats me differently when the other initiates aren't around. At first I didn't know what to expect from him, but I quickly learned that whatever type of friendship we share does not exist inside the training room. Understandable, I guess. He probably doesn't want the others thinking that he favours me for whatever reason.

I give him a half smile before I quickly turn my eyes back to the floor.

Amar takes a seat beside me on the floor and asks, "What's going on, Four? You're sitting here like you just suffered a pathetic loss but you just massacred Eric."

"Exactly," I say quietly.

Amar raises an eyebrow at me and tilts his head to the side. "Can I ask why that bothers you?" he asks me.

I just shrug and say, "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," he says and he places his hand on mine. A part of me feels the urge to take it and hold it tight and another part of me wonders why I have that urge any at all. This is all new to me. Many times I don't know what these gestures of affection and comfort mean to the Dauntless.

I look up to see Amar giving me a strange look—eager, like he expects something from me. I shift, uncomfortable, until I realize that he's expecting me to tell him what's bothering me.

"I just don't like the violence," I admit. "I don't see the pleasure in causing someone else pain."

I almost lost my first fight. It was against an Amity girl. I didn't know how to beat her without hitting her, and I couldn't hit her—at least, not until she had me in a choke hold and my vision was starting to go black at the edges. My instincts took over, and just one hard elbow to her jaw knocked her down. It was enough to leave me guilt-ridden for days.

"Is that some kind of Stiff thing?" Amar asks.

"Maybe. I don't know. It just doesn't feel like a game to me, that's all," I say, and it's the first time I've expressed that to anyone. I know why it doesn't feel like a game—because for so long, it was my reality, it was my waking and my sleeping.

"Oh," Amar says quietly, finally understanding. I know he does. He's seen my fears after all. "Well then don't let it be a game," he says. "You don't have to be cruel when you fight. You fight hard but you fight fair and after you've won, you stop. You can become Dauntless on your own terms. Even if that means that a part of you will always be a Stiff." He grins and punches me playfully in the arm.

I look at Amar and the kindness in his eyes eases me the way it always does for some reason. "I guess you're right," I say, finally letting myself relax.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he says, smiling. "You don't need to be embarrassed around me, you know. We all have our secrets."

I scoff. "It's not a secret if someone else knows."

"It is if that someone else is your friend and promises to keep it a secret."

Marcus kept me locked up most of the time, so Amar is the first real friend I've ever had. When he barely even knew me he gave me a new name, helped me start over. He even took me out a couple of times with friends of his, blessing me with a much less than socially appropriate exhibition of the Dauntless lifestyle. Last night we played Dare and I watched him pull his butt out in front of a bunch of Erudite noses. I've never laughed so hard in my life. I was dared to get a tattoo, and even then Amar protected my secrets, justifying the scars on my body by some other means other than my sadistic father.

There is something in me that wants to trust Amar more than I've ever trusted anyone. But then there's something else holding me back, something I can't quite put my finger on.

"Ok," Amar says with a sigh as he sits up off the wall, sensing my reserve. "How about we square things off a little? I'm gonna tell you something about me that not many people know." He smiles at me and I wait expectantly. And then he says, "I'm gay."

He waits for a reaction from me but I don't know how to react because I've never heard the word before a day in my life. "What does that mean?" I ask.

Amar looks at me curiously for a while and then he says, "It means I don't do girls."

"Oh." Then I ask, "So you're celibate then?" But that's not really a big secret. At least not for me. In Abnegation boys and girls don't get to mix and hold hands and play around like they do so freely here in Dauntless. And we're only allowed to date when we're of marrying age. Celibacy before marriage is actually enforced in Abnegation, but I guess among the Dauntless they might think it's downright strange.

Amar laughs heartily as he presses his palm against his forehead and I instantly begin to feel uncomfortable again. Why is he laughing at me?

"I'm not celibate, Four," Amar says, still laughing a little. "I'm into guys."

I gasp and then I stay quiet for too long trying to make sense of what he's saying. He can't be saying what I _think_ he's saying… Can he? He smiles as he sees the wheels turning in my head and suddenly I know that I'm right.

"But… How does that work?" I stutter. "I mean… Is that really a thing? Is that… allowed?" I ask carefully.

"Yeah," Amar simply nods. And I have to remind myself to close my mouth. I have to remind myself that I'm not in Abnegation anymore.

"So… why don't people know? Are you ashamed of it?" I ask.

"No, I'm not," he says levelly. "I don't deny it if people have the balls to ask me, and all my closest friends and my family know. But I don't go around advertising it either, but that's just because people can be stupid, Four. Especially the guys. They think that just because I'm gay that automatically means that I'm in love with every single man in Dauntless, themselves included." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"And you're not?"

Amar simply smiles at me. "Considering your upbringing, I'm gonna let that slide and use this as an opportunity to educate you," he says kindly. "No. I'm not in love with every man in Dauntless. In fact I'm not in love with any of them. I have likes, dislikes, and preferences just like any other person."

Just like any other person, yet these types of relationships are unheard of in Abnegation. I can hear Marcus already, although he's nowhere in the vicinity. " _Selfish! Selfish! Selfish!"_ he'd scream, and he'd be right. I mean, a relationship of such nature could only be selfish. What purpose would it have? It could never fulfill the most basic responsibility of humankind, which is to guarantee our continued survival. That should be important. Even more so when you live in the lone city that's all of what's left of mankind.

"It's not wrong you know," Amar says, almost as if he senses where my head is at.

"What isn't?" I ask anyways.

"To pursue happiness," he replies. But I don't know what to say to that. Happiness is all but a foreign concept to me. I've been bred to forget self.

"What makes you happy, Four?" Amar asks, sitting up a little straighter and looking at me intently. "You never spend any time with the other initiates and I literally have to beg you to come out with us. Joining a faction is about more than getting through initiation, you know. For most of the Dauntless, they meet their best friends during initiation, their girlfriends, boyfriends, whatever. Enemies, too. But you seem determined not to have any of those things."

I shrug. "I'm used to being alone," I say.

"Yeah, but do you _like_ being alone? What do you enjoy doing? What are your preferences?"

I've seen the other initiates together, getting pierced together and showing up to training with red, studded noses and ears and lips, or building towers out of food scraps at the breakfast table. It never even occurred to me that I could be one of them, or that I should try to be. It's like the natural instinct of a desire for pleasure and delight have been squeezed right out of me, like venom squeezed out of a wound.

"I don't know," I say finally.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know. I've never thought about it." I've never been allowed to think about it.

Letting out a breath, Amar leans back into the wall. "You Abnegation are all sorts of fucked up."

I chuckle. "What about you? What makes _you_ happy?" I press my head back into the wall and I turn to the side so that my face and Amar's are only inches apart when he turns to face me too. I've realized that I love watching him talk. I love the energy and emotion that he puts behind everything that he says. It's like he's alive in a way that I've only ever dreamt of being.

Amar smiles. "Food, games, friends… and honestly? You," he says seriously. "I like you, Four. I won't lie to you. I find your virtue and chivalry refreshing. You make me feel like there really is some good left in the world." And when I find myself blushing for some reason, Amar says, "And when you do things like _that_ it makes me wonder if you like me too."

I suddenly catch myself and I even out the grin on my face. Swallowing hard I say, "What do you mean?"

"I see the way you look at me sometimes," he says. "I've noticed the way you're comfortable when I sit close to you and the way you let me touch your hand just now, but you cringe when anyone else tries to touch you. And then you flush whenever I compliment you." And he smiles and says, "It's adorable, really."

And then I just stare at him, holding my breath.

I wish I knew why I feel the way I do around him and why he affects me in a way that no one else does, but I don't, because the truth is I don't even know what I feel for him. Maybe this is what friendship feels like, but what if he's right and this is more? I don't know because I've never felt this way about someone before; girl or otherwise. And if I were in Abnegation, if I ever did find a girl that I liked, I would go over to her house for dinner with her family, I would find out what volunteering project she was working on and insinuate myself into it. Not because that's what I would have necessarily wanted, but because that's what would have been expected of me.

In Dauntless where my choices are my own and my boundaries are the ones I make for myself, I have no idea how to go about this, or how to know if I even like him that way any at all. I mean, before today I never even knew that Amar and I could be more than just friends if we only ever wanted to be.

"This is… new territory for me, Amar," I say softly.

"I know that," Amar says. "Yet you're still sitting here after I just confessed that I like you. That means something."

I nod because I know that he's right. And as I look into his eyes I can't deny that although I don't know what it is, there's something between us, something meaningful. He takes my hand in his and I smile when he does.

Suddenly, the inches between our faces disappear and I feel rough yet moist lips against my own as Amar presses a kiss there. I feel a charge rush through me and I panic and I freeze, my lips stiff and unyielding. And I stare wide-eyed at Amar as he pulls away with a pained look in his eyes.

"If you're not into guys or into _me_ just say so," he says to me, hurt. "I can respect that. But don't play with me."

I let go of his hand and I stand to my feet, unsure of what to do or what to say. Didn't he feel it?

"I'm not," I say nervously, rubbing the back of my neck.

"You're not what?," Amar says, looking up at me. "Into guys? Or playing with me?"

But I'm too afraid to face the answer, so I say nothing… and then I walk away.

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 **A/N: Loved it? Hated it? Let me know ;) I'll be back in a few.**


	2. Amour Chapter 2

Two days later and Amar still hasn't spoken to me outside of training. He barely even looked at me yesterday. I want so bad to talk to him yet I'm not sure what I'd say if he chose to listen. Apologize for walking away from him maybe, or tell him that my feelings for him scare me for some reason and I never meant to upset or hurt him.

My eyes shift between his back and the floor as all the transfer initiates follow him past the training room to a grim hallway with a heavy door at the end of it. The first stage of training is over and whatever stage two is, it lies behind that door.

Amar tells us to sit against the wall, and then he disappears behind the door without saying anything else.

Eric sits as far away from me as he can, and I am glad for the distance. The night after I fought him, it occurred to me that he might tell everyone that I'm Marcus Eaton's son just to spite me for beating him, but he hasn't done it. I wonder if he's just waiting for the right opportunity to strike, or if he's holding back for some other reason. Whatever it is, it's probably better for me to stay away from him as much as possible.

"What do you think is in there?" Mia, the Amity transfer, asks nervously. None of the other initiates answers her. They're all casting desperate looks at each other.

I sit calmly against the wall but I do feel nervous, though not for the same reason as the others. There's nothing behind that door that can hurt me. What makes me nervous is that whatever stage two is, it requires me and Amar to be alone behind that door, so when he steps into the hallway again and calls _my_ name first, I'm a bit hesitant to get up. Still, I do, and I follow him inside.

I look everywhere but at Amar, and I try to ignore the tension as my eyes memorize the details of the room. It's dim and grungy, with just a chair and a computer in it. The chair is reclined, like the one I sat in for my aptitude test. The computer screen is bright and running a program that amounts to lines of dark text on a white background. When I was younger, I used to volunteer at the school in the computer labs, maintaining the facilities and sometimes even fixing the computers themselves when they failed. I worked under the supervision of an Erudite woman who taught me far more than she had to, happy to share her knowledge with someone who was willing to listen. So I know, looking at that code, what kind of program I'm looking at, though I would never be able to do much with it.

"A simulation?" I say, not quite looking at Amar.

"The less you know, the better," he says flatly. "Sit down."

I sit, leaning back in the chair and setting my arms on the armrests. Every movement feels awkward and overly contemplated.

With the corner of my eyes I watch Amar as he prepares a syringe, holding it up to the light to make sure the vial is locked in place. He walks over to me and our eyes meet for a second. Then he opens his mouth as if to say something but he shakes it off and he sticks the needle into my neck without warning and presses down on the plunger. I flinch.

"Let's see which of your fears comes up first," he says. "I'm getting kind of bored of the four of them. You might want to try to show me something new." Amar smiles a little, seeming more like his old self again.

I smile back. "I'll work on it," I say. And then the simulation swallows me.

I'm sitting on the hard wooden bench at an Abnegation kitchen table, an empty plate in front of me. All the shades are drawn over the windows, so the only light comes from the bulb dangling over the table. When I lift my head, he—Marcus—is across from me. For a split second, he's just like the man I saw across the Choosing Ceremony hall not long ago, his eyes dark blue to match mine, his mouth pressed into a frown.

I see the outline of the lightbulb reflected in my empty plate. Then the light above us flickers, and he turns into the man I always see in my fear landscape, a twisted monster with pits for eyes and a wide, empty mouth. Marcus lunges across the table with both hands outstretched, and instead of fingernails he has razor blades embedded in his fingertips. He swipes at me and I lurch back, falling off the bench. I scramble on the floor for my balance, then run into the living room. There is another Marcus there, reaching for me from the wall. I search for the front door, but someone has sealed it with cinder blocks, trapping me.

Gasping, I sprint up the stairs but when I arrive at the top I trip, and I lay sprawled on the wooden floor in the hallway. A Marcus opens the closet door from the inside, another one walks out of my parents' bedroom, another one claws across the floor from the bathroom. I shrink back against the wall as the place becomes full of him.

Suddenly one of the Marcuses is right in front of me, pressing me to the wall with both hands around my throat. But then he changes. His skin begins to fade darker, his hair begins to stretch longer, his eyes begin to change colour. And not before long the person holding me by my throat isn't Marcus. It's Amar.

"Amar?" I choke out. I grab at his hand where it's wrapped around my neck but then another Amar appears and he drags his fingernails down my arms. It stings.

"Amar, please stop," I beg him, even though I know I'm in a simulation.

"Do you really think that I could ever love you? That any man could ever love you? Your own father doesn't love you," simulation Amar replies, his voice warped and deep.

His words stings more than his hands around my throat does and the pain brings tears to my eyes. I feel my pounding heart as I kick as hard as I can, hitting only air. Then Amar shoves me up the wall, so my toes drag along the floor. My limbs are limp, like a rag doll's. I can't move. I am paralyzed. I can't scream.

Then more Amars appear until the place becomes full of him. They wait below me with their arms outstretched.

 _I have to get away,_ I think. I try to send life into every one of my limbs. I imagine my blood on fire, racing through me. I slap my hand against the wall, searching for a weapon. My hands find a doorknob and I twist it, hard, and fall back into a closet. In the closet is a window, just big enough for my body. And as the Amars chase me into the darkness, I throw my shoulder against the glass and it shatters. I land hard, but I land outside and fresh air fills my lungs. I got away.

Gasping for air, I spring upright in the chair. I put my hands against my throat, on my arms, on my legs, checking for wounds that aren't there. I can still feel the cuts and the bruises from where I was hit, but my skin is intact. My breaths begin to slow down, but then I realize that Amar saw that. He was in my fear and he witnessed every second of it.

I look up and I see him sitting at the computer, hooked up to the simulation, and he's staring at me. His mouth is open and there are tears in his eyes.

As afraid as I may have been in the simulation, and as much as I may have panicked, it's nothing compared to what I feel in the moment when I see the pain in Amar's eyes. My sweating hands begin to tremble, my heart spikes again and again. And ashamed and afraid and embarrassed, I unhook myself from the chair and I run.

I burst open the door and I tear through the hallway, running past the initiates. I'm sure it only terrifies them more because they still don't know what's behind that door. But I don't care what they think of me. I don't care about anything as I race away from that place.

"Four, wait!" I hear Amar yell behind me. I run faster. I can't face him after what he just saw. I can't face him now that he knows why I'm afraid to be with him. I feel a deep twinge of shame in my stomach. I am supposed to be Dauntless. I am not supposed to be afraid of my friend abusing me the way my father did.

After four sharp turns and several dark hallways, it occurs to me that I have no idea where I'm running to. But it doesn't matter, because Amar catches up with me and grabs me by the hand, forcing me to a stop. Turning my head away from him I try to yank my arm away, but his hold on me is firm.

"Four, please stop," he says softly, his voice trembling. "Look at me," he says. I turn around to face him and when I do he presses a hand into my shoulder and says, "Come with me. Please."

I nod. I suppose it's the least I can do after I've demonized him, even if only just in my subconscious.

I follow him down a short, dark hallway and into the stone corridors that lead back to the members' dormitory. The air is cool there, and moist, from being underground. I hear our footsteps echo, and my own breaths, but nothing else.

We come to a stop at a door marked _713_ and I know it to be his apartment number, though I've never been inside. Amar opens the door and he ushers me in. I walk in timidly, not sure where to step, where to stand, where to sit.

"This way," Amar says, and taking my hand he leads me to the living room and shows me to the couch. I sit down, sinking into the soft fabric, and I take a deep breath. "Wait here. I'm gonna go get you a shirt," he says, and only then do I realize than I'm drenched in sweat from fear or from trying to outrun Amar, but I'm not sure which.

I remove my shirt and dry off my chest as best as I can with it, not wiping too hard over the still sensitive skin where fresh tattoo ink lies.

Amar returns not too long after with a plain white T-shirt in his hands and handing it to me he says, "You know when I told you to show me something new… I was only kidding," and he sits gently beside me. But I never imagined that my fear would have changed any at all.

"Is that why you're afraid of being with me? You're afraid I'll hurt you?" Amar asks, but it sounds more like a statement. "All men aren't like him, you know. I'd never want to hurt you."

Desperate, I look up at him and I strongly say, "No. Amar, I know that. I don't think you would ever do that. And I'm really sorry you had to see that. I don't know what part of me that came from." I shake my head in defeat and self-disgust as I stare back at the T-shirt in my hands. Amar knows more about fear simulations than I do. Which means that it makes no sense denying that that fear, as deep as it may lie within me, it's real.

Pressing his elbows into his knees and turning his head up to look at me he asks, "Can I ask you something?" I cringe, afraid of what he might ask, but I nod anyways. He takes a breath. "Did you ever believe that you deserved it? When he hit you?"

I sit up straight and so does Amar. His eyes are pleading but strong as they pierce into mine.

"Sometimes, yeah," I say with a shrug. "Sometimes I thought that if I had just been obedient, or if I was less selfish, less of myself and more of what he wanted me to be then maybe he wouldn't hit me or lock me up in the closet. Maybe he wouldn't be ashamed of me."

"And you'd be wrong," Amar says gently, catching my attention. "I don't know much about the man, but from what I've seen, nothing you did would have ever been enough. You were never the problem, Four. He was. And what hurt me most about what I just saw is not that somewhere deep inside you you're afraid that I'll do to you what he did. It's that there's a part of you that thinks there's something wrong with you. Something that warrants being hurt like that."

He's right. Why else would his simulation self tell me that no man would ever love me if my own father doesn't?

"I don't know what else to tell you other than it's a lie," Amar goes on. "You're one of the best people that have ever fallen into that net and I hope to God you never change, Four. If there's ever a person in Dauntless who is brave when and where it matters most, it's you."

"Thank you," I say softly. "No one's ever said something like that to me before. And it means even more coming from you." Amar smiles and I see how handsome he is when he does, and I let myself accept for the first time how I really feel about him. I take his hand in mine and I say, "I'm sorry I walked away from you the other day. I just didn't understand what I was feeling. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset me?" Amar laughs lightly. "I was hurt yeah, but I wasn't upset. I was embarrassed more than anything."

"Why?"

"I thought maybe I went too far when I tried to kiss you and that's why you freaked out. I thought I had ruined everything. Four," he shrugs. "Even if you don't want to be with me that way, I still want you in my life… even if it's just as a friend. And I won't do anything to jeopardize that."

"And what if I want more than that?" I ask him firmly.

"Then I'll be the happiest man alive," Amar says, searching my eyes. "But only if you're sure," he adds.

I stare back into his dark eyes and in that moment it's impossible to deny that even in the deepest parts of my soul, this is what I want. _He_ is what I want.

"I'm sure," I say softly, and taking the first step, I lean forward and envelop his lips between mine in a soft, slow kiss. Though I don't know what I'm doing, it feels amazing. Amar pulls me closer, gently exploring my neck and cheek with his hands and fingers. Then he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead on my own. I suddenly wonder if he enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.

I smile shyly against his lips. "I'm sorry if I seem a little…"

"Stiff?" Amar chuckles sweetly.

"Yeah," I blush. "It's just that I've never done something like this before."

"Be with a guy?"

"Be with… anyone." I shrug.

"It's ok, Four," Amar says. "We'll go as slow as you need to. You set the pace."

I stay quiet for a while as I let the words sink in. I've never been in control before.

I smile and say, "Ok," and Amar closes his eyes and presses another sweet kiss to my lips. When he opens his eyes, his fingers begin to gently trail down the marks on my chest. Though I want so much to enjoy his touch, the memories that lie beneath each scar take hold of my thoughts and my skin suddenly feels as though it's been set on fire.

When I tense up under his touch, Amar, with pain in his voice, asks, "Did he do this to you?"

I nod and his face falls.

"May I?" he asks softly and when I give him a slight nod of approval, though I'm not sure what for, he presses a kiss to my neck, and then to my collarbone, and then on the left side of my chest and then on the right. By the time he places the fourth kiss just over the last of my ribs, I realize that he's trailing kisses down my scars.

Tears flood my eyes because his simple gesture of affection means more to me than he will ever know. With every kiss I feel renewed. Where there was once a horrible memory now lies the promise of love and tenderness. And though he's said that I shouldn't, I can't help but feel undeserving. The one man who was supposed to love me didn't and yet here is Amar, loving me.

Filled with emotion and wanting, I grab his face between my palms, forcing his lips back up to mine in a passionate kiss. It consumes us as we fight to hold on to one another. I tug at his long, dark hair, his strong back, and as the blood rushing through my veins burns hot with love and desire, for the first time in my life I feel alive.

Our breathing is erratic as Amar pulls back, leaving no more than just enough space between us so that we can breathe.

"Wow. That fast huh?" he says, gasping for air. "You are something special, Four."

He smiles at me as he presses a palm into my cheek, and glistening in his eyes I see it; he loves me and he'd never hurt me. And Amar is bigger, stronger, faster, better. But instead of threatened, I feel safe, knowing that he will only ever stand with me and never against me. I can trust him with all that I am, with all that I feel. I can trust him with my hopes and my secrets, my nightmares and my dreams. He is my future.

I press my palm into his. "Tobias," I say. "Call me Tobias."

* * *

 **A/N: Well that's it for Amour's two shot. Hope you guys liked it! Fun Fact: The word Amour is not only just a combination of the names Amar and Four, but it actually means 'A love affair'. How fitting lol Anyways, thank you guys so much for your reviews of the last chapter and I can't wait to read what you thought about this one. Hope you're excited to read about Tristina :)**


	3. Tristina Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you guys so so much for your kind reviews on Amour! I found it really encouraging that although the majority of you all want Four/Tris, you were still able to read it and appreciate it. It meant a lot to me as a writer :)  
Now here is the first instalment of Tristina. Honestly, it was a bit harder for me to write because I had to make some changes to the characters in order to make the match work. The first chapter, although not all that entertaining, is important because it's a look into what would have been one of the more difficult days in Tris' life (in this story) and it helps us to understand who she is (in this story). So I'm gonna ask you to bear with me and read it to the very end. Also, it's important because you can't understand the second part without reading it. And you'll want to read the second part, because it's the grand finale of both two shots where all four major characters come together ;) Anyways here goes…**

* * *

 **TRISTINA**

 **(TRIS' POV)**

I feel a sharp stab of pain spread across my jaw. And then another. And then another. Suddenly my vision goes black at the edges and there's a ringing in my ears. I lurch to the side as Peter's fist comes at me yet again, but he darts in front of me and kicks me hard in the stomach. His foot forces the air out of my lungs and it hurts so badly I can't breathe.

I fall hard on the mat and the room is spinning, but I'm sure I can see a twisted and satisfied grin on Peter's face. Funny, because he doesn't seem satisfied. He comes at me again, grabbing at my hair as I try to pick myself up off the floor, and he punches me hard and fast in the nose.

The pain is different this time, less like a stab and more like a crackle, crackling in my brain, spotting my vision with different colours, blue, green, red. I try to shove him off me, my hands slapping at his arms, but he punches me again, this time in the ribs.

"Come on, Tris!" Christina yells, trying to encourage me for whatever reason. She and I both knew it the second we stepped into the training room and found our names on that chalkboard. There was _no_ way I was gonna beat Peter. So why is she still cheering me on? Will and Al's perception of my capacity upsets me, as true as it may be, but at least they're honest enough to voice their opinions about my weakness. Christina keeps playing down her own, feigning hope, sending encouraging words my way. It's almost like she's mocking me.

Peter shoves me and I fall again, scraping my hands on the ground. I cough and drag myself to my feet as if I hadn't had enough of this already. For a moment I consider Al's insulting suggestion. Maybe I _should_ pretend to go unconscious. At this rate I will be soon anyways.

 _No!_ I mentally scream at myself. Masochistic as it may be, I will not give up. Even more so, I will not give up to Peter.

I begin to peel myself off the floor again when I realize that Eric and Four are no longer watching the fight, though Peter is still coming at me. They're fighting about something. Four is pointing at me and yelling and Eric has his arms folded as he yells back, "They're gonna stop when _I_ say stop."

Four is trying to stop the fight, I realize. I can't say I would mind if he did, but Eric doesn't listen to anyone. Anyone but Amar, that is.

Suddenly something hits me from the side and I almost fall over again. Peter smacks my ear with the flat of his palm, laughing under his breath. As my head swings around, propelled by the force of Peter's hand smacking me, I see Four shove the door open and storm out.

 _Great,_ I think. Now the only one that could stop Peter from killing me right here on this mat is Eric. It's laughable, like one hoping to put out a fire with a barrel of gasoline.

Peter hits me again and my knees give out and the floor is cool against my cheek. He kicks me in the ribs and I scream out, and he slams into my side again. I can't see anything at all, not even whatever is right in front of my face. The room begins to get darker, like someone dimming the lights. And then someone shouts, "Enough!" and then there's nothing.

When I wake up, the inside of my head is fuzzy. I don't feel much, but I do feel a soft hand against my own, a slow swipe tracing back and forth just over my aching knuckles. I open one eye—the other stays shut like it's glued that way, and sitting to my right is Christina. She shifts a small ice pack from her own bruised jaw to my knuckles. It stings.

"What happened to your face?" I say. My lips feel clumsy and too large. Christina smiles sweetly when she sees me awake. She really is pretty. Not short and plain looking like me.

"Look who's talking," she says with a laugh. "Should we get you an eye patch?"

"Well, I already know what happened to _my_ face," I say. "I was there. Sort of."

Christina grins. "Did you just make a joke, Tris? We should get you on painkillers more often."

With her free hand, Christina assesses the bruises that I know are decorating my face. Her grin falls and her eyes glaze over. It's not typical for the Candor to not say whatever it is that they're thinking, so when Chris just sits there quietly, I just know that it's because she feels sorry for me. I've taken enough of a beating already. No need to add insult to injury I suppose.

"You feeling okay, Tris?" she asks eventually.

"Yeah," I say. "I just wish I could stay here forever so I never have to see Peter again." And I just wish that the first person I've ever been able to call a friend didn't pity me so much. I just wish that she saw me to be as strong as I see her to be. Which is completely stupid. Because I'm not.

"Don't worry about Peter," Chris says sincerely. " _Or_ Eric for that matter. Four went to get Amar but when they got back you were already out. Amar was so pissed. He threatened to pull Eric off initiation detail if he ever tried something like that again. I'm actually hoping he _does_ try. I sorta wish it was just Amar and Four training us."

Eric and Four are our initiation instructors, but Amar is the Dauntless leader in charge of training altogether. I'm glad. He isn't ruthless and made of pure evil like Eric is. Neither is Four. Maybe that's why they gave up on Dauntless women and just ended up with each other. I bet they're both transfers.

"Do things like that happen in Candor?" I coyly ask Christina, wondering just how comfortable she is with the topic.

"Ruthless initiation methods? Sort of, but just a different brand."

"No. That's not what I mean," I say. I'm sure my cheeks turn a bit more red than they already are. "Um… People like Four and Amar. Relationships," I almost whisper.

Christina swallows and she looks at me nervously for a bit. But then she says, "Yeah. Yeah, it happens. It's not too common and not everybody's a fan of it but it's not prohibited or anything if that's what you mean. The Candor are all about truth. And part of being true means being true to yourself."

I nod, because there's a large part of me that understands that, the same part of me that ran away from Abnegation. There, you could say that our lives were planned out for us from the day we were born. Even when I was only fourteen years old I saw myself marrying Robert Black, my neighbour. I saw myself grow into a woman in Abnegation robes, volunteering on the weekends, living the peace of routine, the quiet nights spent in front of the fireplace, being the perfect selfless wife to my husband and my children. But I also saw that he and I were different and that I could never really be in love with him.

My friendship with Chris means so much more to me than a marriage to Robert Black ever would have, but back in Abnegation I wouldn't have been allowed to feel about her the way that I do, even if she _doesn't_ feel the same way. It makes me wonder just how many things does Abnegation decide for its members. It makes me wonder if my parents really loved each other or if they just married each other because it's what they were supposed to do. And why do I have these feelings any at all? I often wonder if my divergence has something to do with it.

"What are you thinking?" Christina asks me, suddenly breaking the silence.

I smile weakly. "Nothing."

Chris seems to accept my answer, though she knows I'm not telling her everything. Maybe if I just tell her that I'm Divergent, and that I'm confused about what it means and about how I feel, she'd understand and would help me figure it all out. Or maybe it'd scare her away from me. Why would a strong, beautiful girl like her want to be with a weak, unnoticeable, oddity like me?

My hand suddenly feels cold as she pulls away her own to check her watch. "I think we're missing dinner. Do you want us to stay here, Tris?"

I shake my head. "I'm kind of hungry. Let's go," I say. We slip out of the infirmary to have dinner with Al and Will and despite my many aches and pains and the pestering feeling that I may actually be in need of some medical attention, I go back to the dormitory. The only thing worse than letting Peter put me in the hospital would be letting him put me there overnight.

* * *

I wake up the following morning feeling like my body had been set on fire. Everywhere aches, and every muscle and inch of skin protests as I try to sit up in bed. I'm not even aware of the pathetic groans that escape me, not until Christina rushes to my aid.

"Take your time, Tris," she urges as she rests a hand in the small of my back. "You sound like a dying animal." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her.

"I'm fine," I grunt more than say, since speaking requires me to breathe and breathing is excruciating. I can barely move and today we have a scheduled trip to the fence. How am I supposed to make it on the train like this?

Christina looks at me warily as I make a more than pathetic attempt to stand. "I'll run and get us some breakfast, Ok? You just… get ready. Looks like it might take you a while," she says, smiling a little.

I grunt again in response.

Once Christina leaves, the dormitory is empty and I'm glad that no one is here to see me struggle.

Trying not to bend at the waist, I fumble in the drawer under my bed for a clean shirt. I unbutton the one I have on and stare at my bare side, which is patched with bruises. I change as fast as I can and let my hair hang loose because I can't lift my arms to tie it back.

I look at my reflection in the small mirror on the back wall and see a pathetic looking stranger. She is blond like me, with a narrow face like mine, but that's where the similarities stop. I do not have a black eye, and a split lip, and a bruised jaw. She can't possibly be me, though she moves when I move.

I chose Dauntless, but Dauntless is killing me. It's likely that whatever part of me that thought I could belong here was wrong, very wrong.

By the time Christina comes back, a muffin in each hand, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my untied shoes. I will have to bend over to tie them and the very thought of bending over is painful. But Christina just passes me a muffin and crouches in front of me to tie my shoes.

"Chris, you don't have to-" I begin to object.

"Shush," she blurts out and I don't know if I should be grateful or upset. As much as I wish she didn't feel the need to coddle me all the time, I'm not really in a position to object. It's incredibly frustrating.

"Thank you," I say to her anyways. I guess it's what I _should_ say.

"Well, we would never get there on time if you had to tie them yourself," she says. "Come on. You can eat and walk at the same time, right?"

We're already late so we walk fast toward the Pit and then the exit. I half walk, half jog, every muscle in my body demanding to be still and punishing me for my noncompliance. We make it to the tracks just as the train arrives, its horn blaring. Everyone is already there when we get there.

"What took you guys so long?" Will shouts over the horn but he doesn't wait for an answer as he begins to jog next to it. He's the first to jump in and then Al hoists himself into the car. Christina is next and she grabs the handle on the side and pulls herself in smoothly.

I jog next to the car, wincing, then grit my teeth and grab the handle. This is going to hurt and it certainly won't be as graceful as Christina's entrance.

Before I can jump in, Al grabs me under each arm and lifts me easily into the car. Pain shoots through my side, but it only lasts for a second. I try to straighten up my face and body when I see Peter watching me. Al was trying to be nice, so I try to smile at him, but I'm really getting sick and tired of my friends being nice. As if Peter didn't have enough ammunition already.

"Feeling okay there?" Peter says, giving me a look of mock sympathy—his lips turned down, his arched eyebrows pulled in. "Or are you a little…Stiff?" He bursts into laughter at his own joke, and Molly and Drew join in.

"We are all awed by your incredible wit," says Will.

"Yeah, are you sure you don't belong with the Erudite, Peter?" Christina adds. "I hear they don't object to sissies."

"Would you guys just stop?" I almost shout, my voice pained with annoyance. I fold my arms and angrily storm off into the back of the train car. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I don't need this from my friends. I don't need anyone to defend me. And even if I do, I don't want them to. I am not a damsel in distress.

I spend the day away from them all and when we get back to the Dauntless compound I don't wait for anyone before jumping off the train and quickly making my way to the dormitories. Al and Will backed off after I asked them to, but Christina kept stealing glances and I could see that she was worried about me. But I made an extra effort to avoid _her_ because I can't stand the way she looks at me. I hate what she sees when she sees me. I hate that she thinks I am frail and fragile and incapable of standing up for myself. I hate that she showers me with words of false praise and encouragement out of pity and in the name of friendship. But most of all I hate that I am as weak as she thinks I am.

I don't mean to push her away but it's just too painful. In that moment it all seems like too much to bear and before anyone can see the tears in my eyes, I grab my towel and head for the showers. I let the water beat down on me for as long as I can until I step out, and only then do I realize that I forgot to bring clean clothes. I wrap my towel around me again and leave the girls' bathroom, hoping that no one is in the dormitory to see me.

When I open the dormitory door, a weight drops into my stomach. Peter, Molly, Drew, and some of the other initiates stand in the back corner, laughing. They look up when I walk in and start snickering. Molly's snort-laugh is louder than everyone else's.

I choke back a sob, knowing that there's no chance that they will go away or just leave me alone, though everything in me wishes that they would. I already hate myself. I already hate today. I don't need this right now.

I walk to my bunk, trying to pretend like they aren't there, and fumble in the drawer under my bed for the dress Christina made me get. One hand clamped around the towel and one holding the dress, I stand up, and right behind me is Peter.

I jump back, almost hitting my head on Christina's bunk. I try to slip past him, but he slams his hand against Christina's bed frame, blocking my path. I should have known he wouldn't let me get away that easily.

"Didn't realize you were so skinny, Stiff," he mocks.

"Get away from me." My voice is somehow steady.

"This isn't the Hub, you know. No one has to follow a Stiff's orders here." His eyes travel down my body, not in the greedy way that a man looks at a woman, but cruelly, scrutinizing every flaw. I hear my heartbeat in my ears as the others inch closer, forming a pack behind Peter.

This will be bad. I have to get out of here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a clear path to the door. If I can duck under Peter's arm and sprint toward it, I might be able to make it.

"Look at her," says Molly, crossing her arms. She smirks at me. "She's practically a child."

"Oh, I don't know," says Drew. "She could be hiding something under that towel. Why don't we look and see?"

I duck under Peter's arm and dart toward the door. Something pinches and pulls at my towel as I walk away and then yanks sharply—Peter's hand, gathering the fabric into his fist. The towel slips from my hand and the air is cold on my naked body, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Laughter erupts, and I run as fast as I can toward the door, holding the dress against my body to hide it. I sprint down the hallway and into the bathroom and lean against the door, breathing hard. I close my eyes and a sob bursts from my mouth, and I slap my hand over my lips to contain it. It doesn't matter what they saw. I shake my head like the motion is supposed to make it true.

Sobbing and with my hands shaking, I get dressed, staring at the detail of the dress in an effort to think about anything else other than what just happened. The dress is plain black, with a V-neck that shows the tattoos on my collarbone, and goes down to my knees. Chris said that I looked beautiful when I tried it on. I wish that I believed her.

Suddenly the bathroom door barges open and I jump.

"Are you ok, Tris?" Christina yelps heatedly as she storms in. "I just came into the room and Peter and Molly and Drew were bragging about what they did to you. They are such animals! I can't believe they did that!"

Of course she'd come to my rescue. Rolling my eyes I say, "Well they did. So…"

Christina steps closer to me and puts a careful hand on my shoulder. I don't look her in the eye though she already sees that I'm crying. "I'm really sorry, Tris. I know how uncomfortable that must have made you. Being from Abnegation and all." She pauses, waiting for an answer from me, but I say nothing. "Are you gonna be ok?" she asks eventually, her voice soft and careful.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. I actually feel worse now that Christina is here to feel sorry for me.

She pulls her hand away and her mood suddenly shifts. She turns away and scowls at the wall. "Don't worry about him. He's gonna get what's coming to him one day. God I'd love to hit him in the face," she snarls, and throws a punch into the sink.

"Well, don't," I almost yell, unable to hide the defensiveness in my voice this time. "I don't need you defending me all the time! And I certainly don't need your pity!"

"My pity?" Christina asks, her face twisted into a scowl. "I don't pity you, Tris. I'm upset!"

"Why?! You're not the one who just got stripped naked in front of three of the people you hate most in the world. What do you possibly have to be upset about?" I bark. I don't mean to yell at her, but she always manages to show up when something bad happens. She gets a front row seat to the most humiliating moments of my life and I hate it. I hate it.

Christina takes a careful step back. "Because you're my friend and I… I care about you. You just don't get it, do you?" She shakes her head and there are tears in her eyes. I don't understand what for. I'm the wounded one. I'm the pathetic one. I'm the one that will never be enough for her.

"Get what?" I ask, rolling my eyes, hiding my pain behind my anger.

She looks deep into my eyes and I stare back into hers. They are big and brown and full of life and energy. They are powerful and strong and beautiful. They are everything I want. Everything I need. Everything I can't seem to be. Everything I don't deserve to have.

And taking a few steps back before tearing her eyes away, Chris opens the door and simply says, "Nothing, Tris."

And then she's gone.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading to the end! :) Please share your thoughts in the tiny box below.**


	4. Tristina Chapter 2

Suddenly the lights come on. I stand alone in the empty room with the concrete walls, shaking. I sink to my knees, wrapping my arms around my chest. I feel cold and I rub my arms to get rid of the goose bumps.

Coming out of the simulation, I feel relief like I've never felt it before. Every muscle in my body relaxes at once and I breathe freely again.

The door opens and I quickly stand to my feet. Max, Eric, Four, and a few people I don't know walk into the room in a line, standing in a small crowd in front of me. When I exchange glances with Four, he sends a small nod my way, I guess to signal that the test went well. He had to coach me on how to hide my divergence during the simulations. I wonder how he knows so much about Divergents.

"Congratulations, Tris," Eric says. "You have successfully completed your final evaluation."

"Thanks," I say, my voice cracking. Honestly, I never thought I'd make it this far. I was in last place after stage one. The only reason I'm still here is because I had the unfair advantage of being aware during stage two. I guess you could say that my divergence is what saved me. In other words, I'm a cheat, an imposter.

"There is one more thing before you can go and get ready for the welcoming banquet," Eric adds. He beckons to one of the unfamiliar people behind him. A woman with blue hair hands him a small black case. He opens it and takes out a syringe and a long needle.

I tense up at the sight of it. The orange-brown liquid in the syringe reminds me of what they inject us with before simulations, and I am supposed to be finished with those.

 _Maybe he'll let me do it again,_ I think with a shudder. Maybe he's figured out that I don't belong here.

"This will inject you with a tracking device that will be activated only if you are reported missing. Just a precaution."

"Oh," I say.

I find that strange. I mean, how often do people go missing? But wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible, or at least before the leaders change their minds about me, I pull my hair away from my neck and tilt my head to the side. I look away as Eric wipes my neck with an antiseptic wipe and eases the needle into my skin. And then he pulls it out, placing it back in its case.

"The banquet is in two hours," he says. "Your ranking among the other initiates, Dauntless-born included, will be announced then. Good luck."

I rush off almost immediately, heading for the dormitories, in search of Will and Christina. When I enter the room, some of the other initiates are cheering and laughing and shouting. Others are pacing back and forth with blank looks on their faces. Others look paralyzed.

Will sits alone on his bed, trying to iron out the creases on his pants. He looks nervous. I don't know what for. I'm sure he did great.

"Will!" I call out to him as I approach. "How'd your test go? Where's Christina?"

He looks up at me as I walk to the edge of his bed. "It was ok," he shrugs. "And Chris took off after the simulation," he says. "Said she wanted to be alone."

I sulk as I take a seat beside Will. I don't think she wants to be alone. I think she just wants to be away from _me_.

Things have been a bit awkward between us since I said all that I did after the towel incident with Peter, and more and more she's been avoiding me. And granted, I hated that she was pitying me so much and acting like my guard dog at every turn, but I never wanted _this_. I didn't want my best friend to push me away, I just wanted her to see me as an equal. But what did I really expect to happen after I started pushing her away first?

It just hurt so much knowing that no matter how much I love her, she would never love me back. And it was torturous being around her knowing how little she thought of me. But more painful still is watching her slowly walk out of my life.

"Do you know what's been going on with her?" I ask Will hesitantly, wondering if she's told him anything.

Will just shrugs. "Maybe you should ask _her_ that."

"I thought you two told each other everything. I was almost beginning to think you two were gonna become an item," I say as I jab Will playfully in the side, making an extra effort to keep the jealousy out of my voice.

"You know for a time I thought so too," Will says, and then he chuckles. "I tried to kiss her and she laughed at me."

I suddenly sit up straight. "Oh my God! That's horrible! Why would she do that?"

He laughs. "I was cool with it really, after she explained why she wasn't into me." Will pauses and when I give him a look urging him to go on he says, "She likes _you_. Like… she really _likes_ you, Tris."

I suddenly forget how to breathe.

"What?" I choke.

"Sorry," Will says nervously, shaking his head. "Please don't tell her I told you that. I promised her I wouldn't have."

 _She likes me?_ I think, over and over again, as if the answer will come to me from out of nowhere.

"Tris?" Will urges me. "You won't say anything, right?"

My mouth hangs open but I still can't seem to find my words and I only come back to reality when Will touches my leg and says, "Here she comes."

I twist around anxiously only to see Christina briskly walking into the dormitory. "Hey guys!" she yells at us. "It's time to head for the banquet! They're about to post the rankings." And although she wasn't talking to them, all of the other initiates make a break for the door in frantic excitement.

"You go ahead, Will. I'm gonna stay here for a while," I say. He nods with evident unease but without argument he takes off, and just as Chris is about to follow behind him I grab her by the arm. "Can we talk?" I ask.

"Sure," she says apprehensively. "But… don't you wanna see how you did?"

"No," I say levelly, and my tone surprises us both. It's not that I don't care how I did. She is just more important to me than that.

"I guess you have no reason to be nervous," Christina shrugs. "You were always good at the simulations."

I nod, too embarrassed to tell her the truth. I'm not _good_ at anything. If I was a normal personal like everybody else, I wouldn't have seen the end of stage two, much less initiation day.

I take Chris by the hand, surprising her, and I take a seat on Will's bed. She follows suit. My thumb traces nervously against her fingers as I think about where to begin.

"So…," Christina says softly after a while.

I've wasted enough time trying to figure out what to say or how to say it so I decide to just come out with it. "I miss you," I say. "I'm sorry I yelled at you and that I pushed you away. It's just that…" I squeeze her hand. "It's just that it was hard for me to watch you watch me struggle through Dauntless initiation."

She nods slowly. "Because you think I feel sorry for you?" she says more than asks, and I look up at her. "Why would you even think that?" she asks me, but why would I _not_ think that? I'm sure she thought I'd never finish. It's obviously what everyone else thought of me.

When I'm quiet for too long, she says, "Tris, you can tell me anything, you know." She takes my face in her hands, her palms are warm.

I believe her.

"You were doing so great and I was having my ass handed to me over and over again," I explain. "I don't belong here and everyone could see it. _You_ could see it."

"You think you don't belong in Dauntless?" Christina yelps before I can finish explaining myself. "That's ridiculous, Tris."

"No, it's not," I say. "I barely made it through stage one."

"But you _did_ make it through, and you did because when you fought Peter you never gave up. When you missed the target, you'd just aim and throw again. And after today, you officially have the least amount of fears in our entire initiate class. How could you possibly think that you don't belong here?"

I shrug. I guess I never thought about it like that.

"And who cares what anybody else thinks?" she continues. "They're all morons anyways. _Especially_ Peter. He's like the king of morons."

I laugh at this until my eyes tear up, and then I squeeze Christina's hand as I stare into her eyes. I've missed this. She just smiles sweetly at me. "Thanks, Chris," I say sincerely.

"You're welcome." She reaches her hand out and tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. "I wish you'd stop doubting yourself. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Tris," she says. "You are stronger than anybody I've ever met. It's why I fell in love with you," she confesses softly, biting her lip. It sends a rush through me, hearing her say those words. "You didn't push me away as much as I chose to walk away. I knew that you'd never feel about me the way I felt about you. And when you told me off in the bathroom I realized that I couldn't force myself on you and-"

"I love you too, Chris," I interrupt her and her eyes open wide. "It's why I was so frustrated when I thought that everything you did for me was out of pity. I thought that you were always defending me and protecting me because you thought I was weak and you felt sorry for me. Not because…" And I blush.

"Not because… I love you too?" she asks, grinning a little.

I nod. "And as unfamiliar as my feelings were I knew that I wanted to be more than just your friend. I'm crazy about you and I've always been," I say. "But I just thought you'd never feel the same way about _me_."

"Well now you know better," she says as she passes her thumb against my cheek. "I think you're amazing, Tris," she says solemnly, the sound of her voice making me flush. "And I think you're crazy for thinking that you're anything but."

I smile and I bite my lip when Christina kisses me between the eyebrows, and on the tip of my nose. I am on edge. Then for a second her dark eyes are on mine, and she's quiet. Then she leans in close, brushing my lips with hers. I feel her breath on my face and then there's electricity coursing through my veins instead of blood. I want her to kiss me, I want her to.

Suddenly, she presses her mouth to mine. I tense up at first, unsure of myself, so when she pulls away I'm sure I did something wrong, or badly. But she takes my face in her hands, her fingers strong against my skin, and kisses me again, firmer this time. I wrap an arm around her, sliding my hand up her neck and into her hair as the feel of her soft lips on mine sends rapid pulses of want and desire throughout my body.

For a few minutes we kiss like that, our arms wrapped around each other, seated on the bed. Then playfully she pushes me over, pressing me hard against the bed. I laugh as she straddles me, and I pull her down on top of me.

Her eyes become serious again and her hands shift to my neck and her fingers brush over the edge of my shoulders making me shiver. I turn my head away, giving her access as she kisses my neck and then my shoulders, and gently she nips at where my breasts are supposed to be. I feel a sudden pounding in between my legs.

"Beautiful," she whispers against my chest. But she's the beautiful one. As I stare at her I become lost in the glow of her flawless, moca skin and her vibrant, brown eyes. And as much as she's said it, I still don't understand why she loves me. I press my hand in the curve of her waist, bringing her closer to me.

"So we're really doing this? You and me?" I ask pleadingly, because it seems more like a beautiful dream than reality. And if it _is_ a dream, I hope I never wake up.

"Yeah," she grins. "We are." And she wraps her arms around my neck, our faces only inches apart.

"Peter would freak out if he walked in on us," I say, laughing.

"Don't worry. They won't be back anytime soon," Chris says.

"I don't even think I care," I say. "They're gonna find out eventually right? It's not like we're planning on keeping it a secret." I blurt out the words before taking the time to think about them. What if she's not ready to let people know about us yet?

I search her eyes for an answer, but she just smiles at me, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "You're so brave, Tris," she says.

"No, I'm not," I blush.

"Yes, you are. You… you're new to all this yet you're just so ready to embrace it, to embrace me. No one knows about me and I've known for years." Christina lets out a breath and without moving her arms from around me she rolls to the side of me. She says, "One of the reasons I left Candor was because I wasn't ready to let my mom find out about me yet. There, during initiation, instead of simulations, you get lie detector tests. All day, every day. And the final test…" she wrinkles her nose. "They give you this stuff they call truth serum and sit you in front of the entire faction and ask you a load of really personal questions. The theory is that if you spill all your secrets, you'll have no desire to lie about anything, ever again. Like the worst about you is already in the open, so why not just be honest?"

"Sounds awful," I say, cringing. I can't imagine what that must be like, having everybody know your secrets. I wouldn't survive it. Not now. Not when my life depends on keeping the secret of my divergence.

"It is," Chris says. "And I didn't want that. I wanted to talk to my mom on my own terms, you know? Not while under truth serum and certainly not in front of the entire faction. But I always knew I couldn't be Candor. I mean, I try to be honest, but some things you just don't want people to know. Plus, I like to be in control of my own mind."

"Don't we all?" I ask with a nervous chuckle. I feel faint traces of fear climbing up my throat and getting stronger by the second. I don't want us to be a secret, but if she's not ready yet then I'll just have to find a way to be ok with that until she is.

"I'm not afraid anymore, though," Christina adds when she sees the worry in my eyes. "With you, I feel different, braver. I actually feel like running to the roof and screaming it out for the whole city to hear."

I smile and let out a breath of relief. "Me too," I say and then she kisses me again, softly and slowly.

We spend the next two hours lying on the bed, talking and kissing until eventually we doze off, wrapped in each other's arms. It is the best moment of my life.

* * *

I wake to squeaking mattresses and shuffling feet. It's too dark for me to see clearly, but as my eyes adjust, I see that Christina is sitting at the edge of the bed, tying her shoelaces. I open my mouth to ask her what she's doing, but then I notice that across from me, Will is putting on a shirt. Everyone is awake, but everyone is silent.

"Christina," I hiss. She doesn't look at me, so I grab her shoulder and shake it. "Christina!"

She just keeps tying her shoelaces.

My stomach squeezes when I see her face. Her eyes are open, but blank, and her facial muscles are slack. She moves without looking at what she's doing, her mouth half-open, not awake but seeming awake. And everyone else looks just like her.

"Will?" I ask, hopping out of the bed and crossing the room. He doesn't answer either.

All the initiates fall into a line when they finish dressing. They start to file silently out of the dormitory. I grab Christina's arm to keep her from leaving, but she moves forward with irrepressible force. I grit my teeth and hold on as hard as I can, digging my heels into the ground. She just drags me along with her.

They are all sleepwalkers. Why am I awake?

I fumble for my shoes. I can't stay here alone. I tie my shoes in a hurry, pull on a jacket, and sprint out of the room, catching up to the line of initiates quickly.

I follow behind them, trying to match my paces with their own, but I step out of line and hide behind a large column when I hear two familiar voices softly exchanging words. I peep around the large cement post and my eyes open wide when I see that it's Amar and Four.

Why are _they_ awake?

"Of course," Four whispers. "It has to be. Eric said every Dauntless was injected. So now the entire faction is brain-dead, obedient, and trained to kill. Perfect soldiers trapped in a simulation."

I gasp at the thought.

Amar shakes his head. "This has to be why Jeanine was looking into the abnormal results. It's why she wanted to observe our fear simulations."

"She knew that if we were aware during those simulations, then we'd be aware during this one."

"Exactly," Amar says, and my eyes open wide. Four and Amar are aware during simulations? Like me?

 _They must be Divergent,_ I realize. _That's_ why Four knows so much about it.

"She's been planning this for years," Amar continues. And if she had discovered us then, she probably would have killed us both. They'll kill us _now_ if they see us. We need to stay out of sight."

"There are others out there, awake just like we are. We can't just hide," Four says, his voice insistent, and I know that they're on my side, whatever side that is. "We have to do something, Amar," he adds.

"I know, Tobias."

 _Tobias?_

"We need to find Uri-"

"I want in," I say as I jump out from behind the column. For whatever reason, I seem to have lost my mind. "Whatever you're doing, I want in."

Amar and Four walk quickly toward me and push me back behind the column. My heart picks up speed and my throat tightens. Maybe I shouldn't have revealed myself just yet.

"Keep quiet," Four snarls at me. "This is not a game, Tris. You could get hurt. Stay here and stay hidden."

"Listen, Four," I bark back. "My girlfriend is out there, mindless and armed. You're not stopping me."

They both tower over me but I stand firm. I feel determined. I suddenly feel like I _am_ strong enough. I _am_ brave. I _am_ Dauntless. And I know that it's because of _her_. I have to save her. I won't stop until I save her.

"Now what's the plan?" I demand. They look at each other and then they look back at me.

When Four rolls his eyes at me Amar smiles a wicked smile, and leaning his elbow on Four's shoulder he mumbles, "What is it with you Stiffs?"

* * *

 **A/N: And that's the conclusion of our two shots you guys :) Amour and Tristina team up to save the day. How do they do it? Well that's up to your imagination lol Who dies and who is left to comfort who? Well... that is also up to your imagination ;)  
Thank you guys so much for your kind reviews and also to those who followed or favourited the story. I really hope you all enjoyed it. Please feel free to check out my other story and leave me a review if you like it.  
I'll be back in a month or two with another full length story, Four/Tris of course, so look out for it.  
Thanks again you guys.**

 **Until next time ;)**

 _Jojoboo90_


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